"You learnt nothing." Jordan is saying. "Too busy ogling me."

"You've just made me eat pasta at nine in the morning. I'm allowed to ogle."

He bumps his shoulder with mine, "The nicest pasta you've ever eaten though, right?"

There's a boyish look of apprehension on his face, like he needs the praise.

"It was. It really was."

He grins at me, then swaggers forward with his usual self-assurance. It was even better being able to watch him work. He made some fancy lobster, chilli, and tomato sauce. It tasted like it had jumped right out a fine-dining restaurant.

There's nothing he can't do; write, play sports, cook. It's as if I've made him up. I'm starting to believe he's not even real, a complete figment of my imagination.

Eighteen year old boys are meant to be fuckwits obsessed with getting their dicks wet. That's what mum said. Not nice and polite with multiple talents - how am I to resist someone like that?

"But I'm now way too full this early in the morning."

He he smiles at me and puts an arm around my shoulder, kissing my temple. "Coffee?"

"Coffee." I concur. "And thank you, I don't think I've ever had a better start to my day."

"Ah, well ." He straightens. "That's my goal, to make every one of your days a good one. Now make a wish."

"What?"

I don't know why I turn into a monosyllabic moron around him. I never know where he's going next. I feel like I'm permanently on the waltz, you know the fun fair ride that just spins and spins until you pass out or throw up, but you're happy about it after?

"Make a wish. Put your hand on this slab - this one right here. And make a wish."

I look at the rock he's got his hand on and then back to Jordan. He's finally lost his marbles. "Jordan, that's a rock. A plain, ordinary rock."

He looks at me like I'm insane. "Not it isn't. This rock is the very first brick laid in Oxford. It was the start of Oxford as we know it. Nothing can move it, nothing has worn it down. It's lasted through time and British weather. It's special."

"Firstly, who on Earth told you that? Secondly, why would that make it a wish granting rock?"

"Christ alive, Autumn. How do you ever get through a book without knowing all the answers? Just make a wish!"

"Fine." I grumble. "I wish-"

"Not aloud!" Jordan bellows. "Have you never made a wish before?"

I glare at him. "How is the rock supposed to know what I'm thinking?"

"It's a magical rock!"

"Alright." I say, giving him a despairing look. "Keep your knickers on."

"This was meant to be cute and you're ruining it."

My eyes narrow at him. "Are you going to make a wish?"

He puffs out his chest. "Yes, as soon as you shut up and let me."

The sight of this buff, tall man, closing his eyes to make a wish, makes me explode with laughter.

"What is wrong with you?" He asks.

"Me? You're telepathically telling a random rock your dreams!"

"Close your eyes and make a wish." He snaps at me, but he's smiling a little too.

I take a deep breath. The cool air fills my lungs. My mind is blank.

What is it that I want?

It's simple really. I just want Jordan. I want it all to work out. I want to trust him with my heart and we stay together forever. I want him to love me back. Is it childish and fickle to wish for that? Should I wish for world peace or to end world hunger or something?

I do the next best thing. I wish for everyone to get the thing that will bring them contentment. "Happiness is a feeling", mum would say, "it comes and goes. It's best to aim to be content." I wish that for him, even if that doesn't come from knowing me.

I open my eyes and Jordan is looking at me, smiling. "Was it a good one?"

"Am I allowed to tell you or will the magic rock smite me?"

"Do you really not know the rules of wishes?"

I roll my eyes, "It was a good one."

My phone rings, startling us both. I drop my hand from the rock and reach for my bag, seeing it's Mum. I tell Jordan.

He frowns at me. "Call her back later. We're almost at the cafe."

I frown back. "No, I'm not doing that."

"Why not? Aren't we supposed to blow our parents off? Isn't that our right as teenagers?"

The ringtone is going straight through me now. "Maybe. But I don't. she might need me or have news." I answer, despite his annoyed look. "Hello?"

"Hello."

"Mum?"

"Yes?"

"You okay?"

"Yep. I'm fine. How are you?"

Jordan is staring at me intensely, as though he's waiting for me to find out if my childhood house has burned to the ground or something.

"I'm okay. But you called me, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just, you know, I had no idea that the house only stayed so clean because of you."

"Ah," I click my tongue. "You miss me."

Jordan gives me a odd look and starts walking forward, towards the cafe. I follow.

"No, I don't miss you. I miss having a clean house."

"You know there is a broom and hoover in the airing cupboard, right?"

"Yeah." She laughs. "But the hoover glares at me whenever I try and plug him in."

"The hoover can't glare."

"Well, when you come home you can tell Henry that."

"Who is Henry?"

"The hoover! Besides, cleaning was only fun when it was with you or when I'm being paid to do it. Cleaning my own house is a chore."

I laugh. "Have you been cooking at least?"

"Sure."

I roll my eyes. "Getting Gerry at the hotel to cook for you is not the same as cooking for yourself."

"No." She says. "It's smarter and free. But, you know, I would be inclined to cook and clean and maybe even do your laundry if you were to come home for, I don't know, a weekend."

I stop walking. "You want me to come home for a weekend?"

"Okay, fine. I'll admit it. I miss you."

"Oh, mum." I chuckle. "I miss you too, but I don't really have the time to come home, not until Christmas anyway."

"Oh." I can hear her disappointment.

I hate making mum sad. She never asks for anything. The only thing she wants is for me to follow whatever I feel is right for me. Unless, of course, that includes sodding off to the otherside of the world with my incredibly opinionated (and often chaotic) childhood best friend.

I find myself saying, "You're welcome to come and visit me."

"Okay." She says, way too quickly. "How about next weekend?"

I shrug, "Yeah, I think next weekend works."

Jordan is furiously shaking his head at me, mouthing "no." I wave him away.

"Fantastic. I'll be there at ten on the Saturday."

I laugh. "You had that whole thing planned, didn't you? You've already booked your trains and hotel."

"An AirBnB. It's beautiful. Oh, we're going to have a fantastic time."

"Of course we will." I say, "Listen I'm out right now but I'll call you later to talk about it."

"Okay. Love you, bye."

"Love you." I say, clicking the phone dead and putting it back in my bag.

"I can't meet your mum." Jordan says before I have even straightened.

I level my eyes with his, he looks panicked. "What do you mean?"

He shrugs, looking away from me. "I can't meet your mum."

"Don't be ridiculous, you live in my halls. You'll have to meet her. She'll want to meet all my friends."

His eyebrows shoot up. "I thought we were done with the whole 'we're just friends' bit?"

"Yeah, we are. But, what? You don't want to meet my mum because we're more than friends? It's a stupid reason."

His voice is low when he says, "I'm not the kind of boy mums like."

I give him a long look. "What does that matter?"

"You're the kind of girl who will need her mum to like me. She's not going to like me if she meets me. She won't approve."

I laugh. "I think mum will just be happy I'm even socialising, she used to say if I wasn't pretty I'd be getting beaten up for being so weird."

He laughs, "She's funny."

I nod. "And incredibly cool, witty, smart. She won't dislike you and even if she does, she respects me enough to make my own choices."

"Unless that includes not going to Uni and flying to Bali?"

"That's probably the only time she's ever put her foot down with me. And look what it's got me! I'm here with you!" His face sort of blanches at that, so I quickly add on, "And Reign and Kerry. I've made friends. I'm having a good time. Probably a better time then I would be living in a dorm with six other people who snore and have smelly feet."

"I dunno," He shrugs, cramming his fists into his jean pockets. "I think travelling is probably quite freeing."

I link my arm through his and pull him towards our favourite coffee shop.

"For someone like Lauren, it definitely is. I'm a bit more of a home-buddy. Look, why don't you mull it over. If you want you can just be thrown in the group with Reign and that. She'll never have to know who you really are to me."

Jordan gives me a long look. Something like pity crosses his face. "That isn't who you are, Autumn. I don't want you to start changing yourself for me."

I don't tell him that I'd morph into whoever he needed. I don't like how comfortable it feels to say that. Isn't it wrong to want to lose yourself in someone else?